


Rousing Devils

by WhimsicalRealist



Category: Hannibal (TV), Supernatural
Genre: Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-19
Updated: 2014-05-19
Packaged: 2018-01-25 18:51:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1658786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhimsicalRealist/pseuds/WhimsicalRealist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A case in Arlington leads Will and Hannibal to cross paths with the infamous Winchester brothers, both presumed to be dead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rousing Devils

"This…isn’t what it looks like?"

"Just hang on a moment, we can explain…"

"I know exactly what it looks like," Will Graham stated, his gun trained on the taller suspect. "But what you  _can_  explain is why you two are not dead, since that’s what the reports claim should be the case.”

"You know of these men?" Hannibal inquired.

"The Winchester brothers."

 

Sam and Dean exchanged a glance while the man bound to a chair with thick iron chains between them lay his head back and laughed.It had been a routine demon capture; they had found the asshole in a bar chatting up the bartender, grabbed him right before he had a chance to pull his knife on her. Bagged his head with a demon trap sack, shoved him in the trunk, brought him to an abandoned apartment for questioning.

Would have been your run-of-the-mill exorcism, too, if the other two men hadn’t barged in. Go figure.

"Lucky us, running into you while on a case here," Will continued. "What brought you to Arlington?"

"You’re here about the murders, right?" Sam offered, his hands still slightly raised in a sign of surrender. "The women with the flowers cut into their backs?"

 

Will’s brows knit and he looked to Hannibal briefly before  fixing on Sam again. It was true: they had been sent to Arlington following a string of murders involving women found lying on their stomachs with scarification on their upper backs depicting various exotic flowers. The latest had been a hibiscus.

"That detail has not been released to the public," he said at last.

"Did you find anything unusual at the crime scenes? Probably something that didn’t make sense," Sam went on excitedly, hands lowering again. "A line of sulfur on the windowsill."

"How do you know so much about these crimes?" the criminal profiler asked.

"Because we’ve been working the same damn case," Dean finally chimed in. "Friend of ours called us in when there seemed to be a pattern."

"You gained access to the crime scenes with false identities, I imagine," Hannibal offered, earning a nod from Sam. "But what does that have to do with this man?"

The psychiatrist gestured to the hooded man bound to the chair. Sam carefully reached over and pulled the sack off; there was a trap spray painted on the floor, so he couldn’t ‘smoke out’ presently.

"When we found sulfur at several of the scenes, we knew what we were dealing with," Dean explained. "This is your guy."

 

Will studied the unmasked man thoughtfully; something felt  _wrong_. Hannibal took a step forward, peering down at the prisoner. He looked up with bloodshot eyes, sporting a split lip that had just started to scab over. Messy brown hair sticking up in all directions, pale skin and his forehead was slick with sweat. Looking down further, Hannibal focused on thin, nimble-looking fingers gripping at the chair’s arms.

"This man is a surgeon," was his conclusion.

“ _Was_ , yes,” agreed Sam. “His name is Michael Fisher. Missing from his home in Annapolis since March.”

"When the murders began," Will sighed, though still looked perplexed. "Did you find anything in his records to indicate why he would do this?"

"Church-going soccer dad with not so much as a driving violation," Dean snorted. "He’s as squeaky clean, apple pie as they come."

"A squeaky-clean surgeon with a passion for scarification? He doesn’t fit the profile, if you’re telling the truth."

"You believe this man to be a demon," Hannibal stated calmly, gesturing to the symbol on the floor.

"Possessed by one, yeah," Dean corrected. "That’s why he’s on lock-down. We were getting ready to ask him some questions before you two interrupted."

"I have nothing to say to you two," Michael grumbled, giving Dean a wide grin. "And you can’t employ your usual tactics with an audience around, now can you?"

"You think he’s  _possessed_?” Will sounded incredulous.

"Look, you may not believe us, but we’re just doing our jobs, like you," Sam offered. "Just let us get the demon out of this poor schmuck."

"No, you’re right, I don’t believe you. Hannibal, call Jack. Have them send—”

 

Before Will could finish his instructions, Dean made an impatient sound and unscrewed the top of a flask he’d been holding. With a slinging gesture, he threw holy water on Michael’s face. With a pained hiss, he writhed in the chair as it burned him, steam rising from wherever the water touched. Swinging the gun to point at Dean, the hunter raised one hand while take a swig from the flask himself to prove it wasn’t something more sinister, like acid.

"Holy water. Relax."

"Look at his eyes!" Sam urged. "Tell me that’s normal!"

 

Despite himself, Will looked. He had seen them just a moment before, brown, nothing special…but now they were black. Solid black, even where the white should have been. Hannibal too found himself studying the altered eyes before they flicked back to normal.

"What was that?" Will demanded. "How did his eyes change?"

"Demon, like we said," replied Sam with a shrug.

"So this… _demon_ , is controlling Michael’s body?”

"It’s a nice meatsuit," the possessed man snickered. "Has a great talent with a scalpel. But what a waste, using it for surgery. I just gave him a new canvas is all."

"Alright, shut it," Dean snapped, pointing at him threateningly with the hand still holding the flask. "Don’t get too comfortable in there, we’re gonna be sending you back to Hell."

"Hell…demons, this can’t be real," Will muttered, his hands lowering along with the gun. "You can’t be serious."

 

Hannibal stepped back beside the profiler, letting a hand rest on his shoulder in a grounding gesture. Will’s mind was reeling; how could this even be possible? There was no denying what he’d just seen, but that didn’t make the situation any easier to digest.

Sam, meanwhile, retrieved the book in which the incantation of exorcism was written. He cleared his throat and began.

"Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus!" he read loudly, Michael fixing him with a fierce glare. "Omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii!"

"Latin," Hannibal commented, holding Will’s shoulder tight.

The bound man began to writhe, struggling against his bindings wildly. Will nearly jumped when the chair itself was propelled forward, but stopped suddenly before reaching the edge of the circle painted on the floor. Just as violently, it shot backward again, then to left, the right, as if seeking escape.

"Omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica!" Sam plunged on as the possessed man began to heave, black smoke wafting from his mouth. "Ergo, draco maledicte. Ecclesiam tuam securi tibi facias libertate servire!”

"Te rogamus," Dean concluded. "Audi nos!"

 

Michael threw his head back and screamed, a flood of coiling smoke flooding up toward the ceiling before the incantation dragged it to the floor where it sent up a shower of sparks as the demon was banished back to Hell. The surgeon’s head slumped against his chest, his breathing slow and shallow while the four men stood there in awkward silence.

"Ta da?" Dean offered with a slight grin.

 

* * *

 

Standing in the surgeon’s hotel room hours later, Will scowled at the framed ‘art’ on the walls. The demon had been careful with his work, preserving the skin it carved from the women’s backs. The latest flower was still pinned to the table to dry, the others in their frames had been painted upon with oil pastels to lend them detail and color.

"Something is bothering you, Will," Hannibal offered, the only other person the profiler would allow in the room with him.

"This whole thing is bothering me," Will admitted, shaking his head. "I don’t know what’s worse…"

"Whether knowing that demons actually exist or that some evil acts are done  _without_  their benefit,” the psychiatrist concluded.

"Exactly."

" ‘ _In every man’s heart there is a devil, but we do not know the man as bad until the devil is roused_ ’,” Hannibal quoted. “Perhaps we are only witnesses to these roused ‘devils’ before they are reborn in Hell as demons.”

Will would find no comfort in that idea, either.


End file.
